


Hey, Accidents Happen...

by creakybones



Category: LeATHERMØUTH, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Accidental wetting, Gen, LeATHERMOUTH!Frank - Freeform, Leathermouth - Freeform, Omorashi, Public Wetting, Wetting, pissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 16:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12345966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creakybones/pseuds/creakybones
Summary: Frank overestimates how long he would be able to hold it during a leathermouth show. His miscalculations cause him to have a little..."accident", in front of everyone.





	Hey, Accidents Happen...

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago and posted it on my tumblr. I just decided to add it here as well so people would be able to find it if they were interested in this kind of thing! (keep in mind that I wrote this very quickly so it isn't as good as it could be! but I hope it's still enjoyable! sorry it's so short!)

Frank scrubbed a stained up, white towel over his face, collecting his sweat in the fabric as the band behind him got tuned up for their next song. It was hot as shit in the tiny, packed venue in some small no-name city. No matter how many times he tried he just couldn’t keep the sweat from dripping down his face. The heat definitely didn’t help with his throat, which was already raw from his screaming. He had to drink multiple bottles of water just to keep it from feeling like he had swallowed a handful of nails or some shit. It fucking sucked, but it didn’t really matter too much. Frank was enjoying himself despite those few drawbacks. 

The crowd was really getting into it and throwing themselves around, giving him such a good energy to work with. He thrived off of it. That’s what made it worth it. He wanted to give these kids a good experience. So that’s what he set out to do. It’s just that it was so fucking  _hot_. Why was it so hot? He couldn’t even remember what state they were in anymore. He was almost convinced that they had somehow made a wrong turn along the way and ended up in Hell. But, he was pretty certain that Hell didn’t provide free water bottles so that helped reassure him that they were still on Earth and not in some place of everlasting inferno. 

Frank moved across the stage, his clothes sticking to his skin with each movement as he grabbed another one of the water bottles. He didn’t know how many he had drank already, but he knew it was  _a lot_ more than he normally did during a set. At least he knew that he would be hydrated as he tipped his head back and chugged most of it, some of it dribbling down his chin and onto his shirt. He exhaled loudly once he finished and tossed the bottle to the floor, the rest of his band looking at him and telling him that they were ready whenever he was. 

As he walked back to the microphone he began to feel some pressure in his gut, it was just barely there but Frank could still feel it. He knew what it was, but he chose to ignore it. It wasn’t that bad, and besides, they only had two more songs to do. He could wait to go to the restroom after they were finished with their set. No big deal. “Alright, Motherfuckers. This song is called Sunsets Are For Muggings.” Frank informed the crowed once he got to the mic, his voice sounding completely wrecked as he ran a hand through his hair and grasped at the mic stand. “If you know the words scream along. If you don’t, then I don’t give a shit.” He spat out and turned back to the band. He gave them a nod and they promptly jumped into the song.

Frank was giving it all he had, just like he always did. It didn’t matter how tired and exhausted he was, he never put less than 100% of himself into his performance. It wasn’t until halfway into the song that the pressure in his bladder started to grow. It was beginning to become much less of just a thought in the background, and more of something that was prominent in his mind. As he spat out the words to the chorus he could feel a slight pain accompanying the pressure. It became worse and worse with each time he moved, and he happened to be doing quite a bit of that. 

God, It was really starting to  _hurt_. As he threw himself around it began to jostle his bladder, his piss becoming unsettled inside of him. Frank used the microphone stand as sort of a crutch to lean on when it began to become a little bit too much. He didn’t understand how it had hit him so quickly. He had almost been certain that he could wait out the rest of the show, but now he wasn’t as sure. But he couldn’t just stop the show just so he could go piss, that would be lame as shit. Frank decided that he would just suck it up and deal with it. He wasn’t a fucking little kid. He was a grown ass man. 

By the time the song was finally over, Frank’s thighs were beginning to shake slightly. The pressure in his gut was just building and building steadily and it was relentless. His throat hurt like shit, too, and as much as he knew he shouldn’t, he began to walk over to the water bottles again. His movements were a little shaky as he leaned against the table and opened the bottle, and his legs were beginning to feel quite weak. He tipped the bottle back and drank it slowly, knowing that if he went faster then it might affect him quicker. The lukewarm liquid spilled down into his stomach and he gave a satisfied sigh as he pulled the bottle away from his mouth, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. 

As Frank pushed himself off of the table his knees buckled and he nearly fell down the floor. luckily he caught himself before that could happen, but it was still a struggle to walk back to the microphone. His breath was now beginning to come out in little whimpers. Small little whines escaped past his lips each time he exhaled. The pain was no longer a dull sensation. It was becoming a sharp, throbbing pain in his lower abdomen. “Fuck.” He rasped quietly under his breath. How the hell was he going to make it through the next song?

Frank cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his face, his other hand grasping tightly at the microphone stand. “O-Okay.” He stammered out, trying so hard to keep his voice from wavering. Hopefully the kids would just think that his throat was just too sore to speak steadily. “This next one is called, Your Friends Are Full Of Shit. I hope you hate it.” Frank announced, finally managing to speak without stuttering. He really didn’t want to have to do this. He really didn’t think he could make it a whole song. Not anymore. 

Of course, Frank had no choice, because the band was already playing behind him and he had to start screaming. Fuck, he couldn’t stand anymore. That last bottle of water he drank was beginning to take its toll on him finally. He slid down to the floor as his legs became too weak to hold him up anymore, and he hunched over to scream into the mic. He wanted it to seem like he was doing it on purpose. He normally ended up on the floor a few times during those shows anyways. Frank moved his hand that wasn’t holding the microphone, down to between his thighs. It almost looked like he was touching himself, which is what he was going for, that way they wouldn’t know that he was actually trying desperately to hold it. 

Frank palmed at his crotch, adding pressure on it to try to hold himself over. It seemed to be working at first, but the pain began to grow more. Frank breathed a small whine into the microphone, the noise echoing out of the speakers, but no one really paid any attention to it. It hurt. God, it  _hurt._ Frank was having trouble focusing on actually saying the right words to the song now, and he knew that it was a problem. But it was almost over! Frank realized that the song only had a few more seconds and then he would be able to leave! He could do it. He could make it. 

Frank screamed out the last few words with relief. He couldn’t believe it was finally over. He could finally get up and find the restroom. Frank began to push himself off of the floor, the crowd still screaming excitedly at him, when his legs just gave out again and he dropped back to his knees. He was about to try again when he felt something wet begin to drip down his thighs, a small, hissing sound just barely audible. No. No fucking  _way._ Frank shoved a hand between his thighs again and he realized that he was actually  _pissing_ himself. It was flooding his hand, dripping between his fingertips and down his legs. It was so fucking warm, he was already sweltering in the heat, and the feeling of hot piss definitely didn’t help him at all. But it felt so… _good_.

The relief that accompanied his bladder emptying itself was near incredible. Frank’s mouth dropped open in something close to pleasure, a small breathy moan slipping out as his eyes fluttered closed. He nearly forgot that he was on stage in front of a couple hundred kids. “O-Oh  _God.”_ He panted quietly and dropped his head down. His piss was beginning to soak the floor, pooling around him as he just let it all happen. It was too late to stop it anyways. 

All of that only lasted a couple of seconds. Frank shuddered as the last couple of drops emptied out of him, his palm pressing against himself a little harder. It took a few seconds for the weight of what just happened really hit him. He had just pissed his pants like a little kid in front of everyone. He had to act like nothing had happened though. Like it was just some regular fucking occurrence that Frank Iero pisses himself every day or some shit. He pushed himself off of the soiled stage, his legs finally able to function properly and hold him up. He looked down at his pants, the white fabric absolutely soaked as it stuck uncomfortably to his skin. God, he was such a filthy mess, but part of him found himself liking it in an odd sort of way. 

Maybe it was a way to show that he didn’t fucking care what anyone else thought of him. He was going to do whatever the hell he wanted and people would just have to like it or leave. To his surprise though, when he looked back at the crowd, no one was even acting like anything out of the ordinary happened. They were still cheering for him and the band like they always did. It was almost surreal. Frank had to look down at himself and the stage to make sure that all of that had _actually_ happened. Sure enough, he was still covered in piss, but no one cared. His fans were weird as shit, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Now it was just time for him to go back to the bus and get cleaned up finally. He didn’t want to smell like piss for the whole night


End file.
